


Compass

by mm8



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Civil War, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Western, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo needs a hug, Depression, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, slow as molasses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-04-07 13:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4265310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm8/pseuds/mm8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six years ago, Captain Thorin 'Oakenshield' Durin had him forcibly transferred out of California to the Western theater for stealing the Arkenstone. </p><p>Five years ago they won the war.</p><p>Now, Private Bilbo Baggins lives in Kansas with his nephew, working as a columnist and author to support them.</p><p>Suddenly, the past comes roaring back into his life. Can he confront what happened in California and reconcile with old friends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. and now I know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hiddencait](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddencait/gifts).



> Historical note: No actual battle was fought in the state of California during the American Civil War. Actually, since California was on the opposite coast of the major action, but wanted to fight, they asked Philadelphia to fight for them.So actually the first Californian regiments are Pennsylvanians… awkward. The later regiments were made of native Californians, Arizonans, Washington territory, etc. All those regiments chilled out in the Pacific Coast theater where little to no action pertaining Blue versus Grey occurred. It was pretty much defending forts and fighting Native Americans. Probably the most action there was the New Mexico campaign (a failed Rebel attempt to take over Southern California. They were stopped in New Mexico by Californian volunteers), some Naval battles on the Californian coast line (but since this is the Hobbit and they barely go anywhere near an ocean, I'm not bringing it up), and some really sad massacres of Native American tribes. Yeah, pretty much all the Pacific coast had going on during the Civil War. BUT for purposes of this fanfic, we are going to pretend that there was one battle in California… and it's basically the Hobbit. 
> 
> So you're caught up right? If you are still confused after reading the fic, or have any questions, leave me a comment and we can chat. I love gabbing about history and my fics anyway.

_Summer 1870._

 

Bilbo Baggins wiped his butter covered fingers with a damp rag. Supper was ready, hot tomato soup, a loaf of wheat bread, roast chicken, buttered carrots and apple pie for dessert. It was all waiting to be set on the table. There was only two more things to be done. He left the sweltering heat of the kitchen and swung open the front door, stepping onto the front porch of his new frame house. The wood was unpainted. The whole outside of the house was. It was most unbecoming. But there was nothing to be done about it. He and Hamfast would have to get to it as soon enough. It would have to wait until Gaffer finished harvesting his corn for the season and sold the lot. The house would look rather plain for a while longer. He checked on the sun tea that had been brewing for most of the day out on the porch. Bilbo took a long sip and sighed contently. Perfect. 

Many things had changed in the past five years since the end of the war. President Lincoln was dead. The rebels had been pardoned by his successor. And now the old General of the Union was President. Things never ceased to amaze him. 

The world had turned fast-paced. The railroad had been built about thirty miles east of Bag-End in the new town of Bree. The steam trains had brought Bilbo new neighbors, that _weren't_ family. A cheerful bunch, the Gamgees, husband, wife and a brood of six children, settled down during Bilbo's absence, and had a plentiful farm, harvesting wheat, oats, and corn. Their property bordered his own land, in the summertime when Bilbo walked out of his home he couldn't see hide nor hair past the tall stalks of corn for miles. 

When Bilbo had returned home from the war, he never hoped to be greeted with cheers or congratulations from his family for winning the good fight and reuniting the country. He certainly didn't expect to be declared _dead_ by a typographical mistake from a battle he'd never been in! Christ, he'd never fought in Virginia, how could he have died there? To see his family auctioning off his personal belongings, Lobelia carting off his mother's silverware, and for a perfect stranger with a thick Scotch accent urging his neighbors to stop, was a startling sight to see upon his return to the Shire. Once Bilbo had proven his identity (thank God he still had his army contract!), he was left with what remained of his lonely soddy and his now-friend Hamfast Gamgee to help mend the broken pieces. 

Of course, Bilbo mused, moving out of his parents' old sod house and into a frame one was not the only thing that had altered in his life since the war passed.

Bilbo scanned the surrounding area, frowned to himself. He leaned across the porch railing as to get a better view. The prairie wind blew the stalks of corn fiercely, so if anyone was hiding in the field, the ex-soldier couldn't tell. It was then that Bilbo noticed that the door to the sod house was open, laughter and giggles wafted out and were carried off with the wind. 

"Bloody hell," he muttered. Bilbo threw down the used rag on the seat of the nearest rocking chair and made his way down the front stairs. The grass felt divine against his bare feet, and if it was any other time, he would have loved to take a moment and sit in the rich green fields, staring up at the wide open sky and think up topics for his next story… but he couldn't do that now. Bilbo was on a mission. 

He marched three long chains until he finally stood in the entryway of the his boyhood home. He could smell of the damp musk of the familiar yet ancient sod. It reminded him of his mother's stories, his father's old pipe, of home. The sod house was used as a barn now to store any big belongings of theirs and frankly, the Gamgees had a few things stuffed inside too. God knew they needed the extra space and Bilbo was pleased to offer after all their family had done for him. It was almost pitch black inside, but the Kansas sun managed to sneak in through the sole window and a couple natural cracks between the sod bricks. It was cramped in there, hardly any space to move. Quite unlike Bilbo's childhood when it was a normal sod house and kept quite roomy.

"Frodo Baggins! Samwise Gamgee!" Bilbo couldn't help but smirk a little when the two small children quieted their chatter at being caught. "Come out here at once or I'll--" he didn't have to finish the sentence, both boys quickly ran out from behind Bell's broken sewing machine. The Englishman had to think fast and moved out of the way just in time as Frodo and Sam flew out the door.

The two boys were a bit dirty from playing in the barn. They hovered by Bilbo's feet, looking down at the grass, not daring to meet his eyes.

"What have I told you two time and time again? Don't play in this old barn. It's not safe to be in there by yourselves. That barn hasn't been properly tended to in years. The roof could fall in or--" he heaved a sigh. The boys did look rather mournful. Bilbo held out a hand for each of them to take. "C'mon, it's time for supper and you two are having a wash---"

The boys groaned in unison. "Do we have to Mister Baggins?" Samwise spoke up boldly.

"Yes indeed," he responded firmly. "It's what you get for playing in the barn. What were you two doing in there anyway?"

Samwise hopped along excitedly. "We were re--react--"

" _Reenacting_ ," Bilbo helped. 

"Yeah, that. The time that the Johnny Rebs captured Captain Oakenshield and his men and you talked and talked and talked to the Rebels--"

"--You said they had a parasites and couldn't be touched or they'd die!" Frodo interrupted.

"Yeah, for so long that they didn't notice that Mister Gandalf had stolen their guns and cannons and horses right out from under their noses and they had to surrender!" the child said in one sweeping breath. 

Bilbo wanted to correct them, but he didn't. Frodo and Samwise were very content as they chatted away at his sides about his various adventures and it warmed his heart. He was happy that his time had not been wasted, that these children could find some fulfillment in his tales. That didn't mean that remembering didn't sadden him. Wishing on what might have been. But wishing did no one good.

He was taken out of his daydreams by a gentle tug on his trouser leg. Bilbo looked down to see Frodo with curious wide eyes staring up at him. "What is it, my lad?"

"Was Mister Gandalf supposed to come today?"

The Englishman wrinkled his brow as he stopped in his tracks. Off in the distance stood his house. And yes, on the porch rocking in his favorite rocking chair, reading a newspaper and smoking a pipe, was Gandalf Grey. A large kit was sitting by the door. He bit the inside of his cheek. This afternoon was quickly going downhill.

To his surprise, the two boys stayed by his side as they approached the two story house. "Good afternoon," Bilbo greeted a little mischievously.

Gandalf looked up above his paper, _The New-York Tribune_ (where had he got a copy of that out here?), his eyes sparkled. "Is it?" he asked in kind, folding his paper in thirds and setting it aside on the railing of the porch next to the pitcher of sun tea. "My, who are these two creatures? They are covered with so much dirt that they must have been harvested from the earth!" Gandalf winked at Bilbo. "You have two large potatoes with you, Master Baggins. You must wash these spuds, so we can have them for supper!"

Frodo and Samwise immediately protested, launching themselves into the old man's open arms. "No! We're not _potatoes_ , Mister Gandalf! We're little _boys_!"

Gandalf pinched their cheeks and ruffled their hair. "Why so you are!" he gasped in surprise. "I suppose I should wear my spectacles more often!"

The boys giggled and squirmed in his lap, getting Gandalf's nice grey trousers and shirt dirty.

Bilbo clapped his hands. "Now, now! Go and clean yourselves up for supper. Come back when you're finished."

The two boys pouted as the slid down Gandalf's legs. Samwise went along inside, but Frodo stayed back for a moment. "Aren't you coming too?"

Bilbo smiled at his young ward. "I'll be out here talking to Mister Gandalf. But be quick, now. Supper's been ready and you don't want it to get cold do you?"

Young Frodo thought for a moment, before shaking his head. Then he hugged Bilbo around the shins and scampered off into the house, calling out for his friend.

Gandalf chuckled lightly. "They've grown quite a bit since I last visited," he reflected. "Keep you on your toes, don't they, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo hummed in agreement as he took a seat in the rocking chair next to Gandalf. "Do you want some tea, Gandalf? It's freshly brewed."

The old man blew a magnificent smoke ring into the breeze. "No thank you. I am quite preoccupied with my pipe." 

Content silence filled air between the two friends. The only sounds that could be heard were of the singing cicadas, the creaking rockers, and Sam and Frodo's gentle laughter. 

"Where'd you get that paper?"

His old friend quirked an eyebrow, "I do travel my dear boy. The railroad has only made it easier. There's plenty to see beyond the Kansas borders, you know. 

"A few weeks ago, I was in New York City staying with a few acquaintances. They happened to have an old copy of _The Tribune_ and told me about a _must-read_ columnist who wrote about life in Kansas. Asked me if I knew Mr. Underhill since I had few friends in state. I told them that Kansas was a wide and vast place, I can't be expected to know everybody.

"They happened to also have a few dime novels on their bookshelves from their favorite author--"

Bilbo held up his hands, "I don't want to know how you found out about all of that. Especially since I write under pen names," he growled out.

Gandalf tapped the side of his nose. "I always know."

The veteran rolled his eyes. Gandalf and his riddles. Not that Bilbo didn't like _riddles_ , but Gandalf was mysterious sometimes. Alright, all the time. It was downright frustrating. Why couldn't Gandalf plainly tell him how he found out he was William Underhill and Bill Took? Alright, Bill Took he could understand. But didn't he deserve his privacy? After all he'd been through with the war? After all Thorin--

"Are you happy?"

Bilbo opened his eyes; he hadn't realized they were closed. He saw that his hands were in clenched fists in his lap. Slowly, he unfurled them. Bilbo looked up to see that the sun was beginning to set, and the lightening bugs were shimmering in the grass. Damnit, and they hadn't eaten yet. How long had he been with his own thoughts? What a damn fool he was. "Pardon?"

Gandalf stared at him. The sweet odor of his pipe wafted toward Bilbo. "Are you happy?"

The question took him by surprise. Was he? He had a very successful column in a popular newspaper. His novels were quick-selling too. He had a child to look after and raise into a man. He and Frodo had a new house, a few wonderful neighbors and the train station wasn't far away so in theory they could go wherever they desired. 

But was he happy?

Before he could formulate a proper response, Frodo and Samwise waddled out onto the porch, declaring that they were all clean. Bilbo's demeanor brightened instantly, finally things were getting back on schedule. He picked up little Frodo and hiked the boy up onto his hip. "Will you be staying for supper?"

Gandalf shook his head as he stood up slowly from Bilbo's favorite rocking chair. He tapped out his tobacco ash over the side of the porch railing and stuck his pipe back into his kit. "No, I think not. I have a train to catch, I'm afraid. And a wizard is never late."

They all said their goodbyes, and watched as Gandalf made his way down the long dirt path onto the main stretch of road until he disappeared from their sight.

 

_Winter 1870._

 

The fire roared steadily on as Bilbo added a few more logs as fuel. He poked and prodded the wood for a few moments until he was satisfied, then put the poker to the side and replaced the decorative screen. Nearby, Frodo and Samwise laid on their bellies, sharing a book and reading quietly to themselves. Bilbo smiled to himself before sitting back at his desk. Usually it would be in his study, but because of the cold weather, he'd pulled it toward the fireplace to help keep warm as he wrote. 

He was in the middle of writing two novels, one aimed toward children and the other rather sordid, and frankly would earn him more money. He was working on the childrens story now, of course. He planned for it to be a serial called _There and Back Again_ , a dumbed down version of his adventures in the war, the tales he told young Frodo, his cousins Merry and Pippin and friend Samwise. If those boys enjoyed it, why not the rest of the country? It was gamble, he knew. It was one he wanted to take.

The day passed quickly, the boys were pleasant and well-behaved. Bilbo ended up writing and revising a few chapters. It was very calming. By early afternoon, Bell came calling to collect Samwise, and offered him a whole basket full of cornbread in thanks.

"Did you hear the news, Mister Baggins?"

Bilbo shook his head and laughed lightly. "Why Bell, I've been inside all day. Any news you have will surely be news to me."

"Strangers came off the train in Bree the other day."

"I fail to see how that is _news_. Strangers come on and off the train in Bree everyday. Just last spring your cousin came from Edinburgh and stayed until she could no longer stand the wind sickness!"

"Yes, but these men look practically _wild_. Long hair, braids, and beards. If it wasn't for the color of their skin or hair, you'd mistake them for Indians. I haven't seen them of course, Mister Baggins. I've been busy at the farm taking take of Marigold. Poor lamb has a fever and couldn't sleep through the night. But, my dear friend, Ella, runs a saloon in Bree with her husband, and she stopped by yesterday and told me about them. No manners, Mister Baggins! It was a disgrace."

Bell left with Samwise, and Bilbo was made to ponder over what she had said. Could it really be--? He shook his head. No, there was no such thing as coincidences. Gandalf showed in the summer and then rumors of men matching his old friends? Pssh! The Company wouldn't step foot in somewhere like Kansas. 

Especially Thorin Oakenshield.

* * * * *

Later that night, as he was tucking a sleeping Frodo under the covers, he decided that his nephew was perhaps the best editor in all of America. He had read the child portions of what he'd scribbled down earlier in the day and the lad was quick to respond. He said 'no, no, you always tell it like this Uncle Bilbo!' or 'that part's stupid'. Brilliant child.

It was too dark for his liking to write properly. He had learned rather quickly that writing by candlelight was not his strong suit. It hurt his eyes to constantly squint in the dim light. When he would awake in the morning to edit his masterpiece from the night before, Bilbo would be horrified to find that a chicken had written down all of his words instead, and he simply couldn't read a thing.

Instead he sat at his desk and watched the flames of the dying fire. The orange glow of the embers and the nice popping sound was calming. Bilbo had already blew out all the candles and lanterns. It was a tad reminiscent of his days in the war. Cold nights out in the Californian desert. Bombur cooking something actually edible from old hard-tact. Bofur telling the Company a bawdy tale or coercing everyone to sing a merry tune. Gloin and Nori would be playing some sort of gambling game. Oin complaining about the lack of medical supplies the Union gave him. Fili and Kili would be on watch. Sometimes, if it was a good day like when they had won a battle, he and Thorin--

Bilbo sat up straighter in his chair. He had definitely heard voices. It was just him and Frodo tonight. None of his nephew's friends were staying overnight, therefore no need to worry about unexpected visits from worried mothers. Intruders? They didn't seem too worried about being overheard. Still though...

Straightening his waistcoat, the veteran stood up and swiftly crossed the room. He received Sting, his trusty .44 caliber Starr DA revolver that had seen action in the war, from the highest shelf of the cupboard. All six cylinders were already loaded. 

He slipped out of his house unnoticed by the robbers. The grass was freezing on his bare feet, but Bilbo didn't let that tiny fact stop him as he crept closer to prowlers. They were loitering outside the door of the barn. Three of them. No, four. Men by their shapes, and all taller than him, but that wasn't much of a surprise. He managed to slide up to the north facing side of the barn, catty-corner to the door and his thieves.

_"Is this the correct home?"_

_"It is. I remember it well."_

_"Did you get us lost again?"_

It was then that Bilbo revealed himself, cocking the hammer of Sting and aiming it at the head at the nearest intruder. He was ready. No one was going to harm him or Frodo.

It seemed to all happen in an instant.

The four men turned to face him and Bilbo gasped.

Those eyes. Those deep blue eyes.

Somehow he found his voice, "Th-- Thorin?"

The next moment his ears were ringing from the sound of gunfire.


	2. the only compass that I need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear hiddencait,
> 
> OMG, this story keeps growing the more I write. I swear that it will be completed. I know the whole thing in my head and I see the end. These boys just like to talk and want me to keep adding details.
> 
> I promise you that this is going to be finished. I think there's going to be 3 parts altogether but there could be 4. I don't know if I am allowed to add more chapters after the 11th (or is it technically the 10th?) but before the author reveals. If I can, I will. If I can't, you'll get the rest after the author reveals. I am so sorry. I really am. I seriously don't know how much I can express that I'm sorry. These silly boys (and my damn muse.)
> 
> And yes, I do feel extremely shitty about this. I'm actually beating myself about this pretty bad.
> 
> Also, there is a lot of stuff still to come. Ton of stuff hasn't been covered and a lot of it I pulled from your dear author letter. :-) (hopefully you have already noticed the subtle hints???) I am very excited for the next installment and I hope you will be too.
> 
> Sincerely (and groveling),   
> Me

_"Th-- Thorin?"_

There was a blur. Two quick forms barrel toward and fling their arms around his neck yelling, "Mister B _o_ ggins!"

In surprise, Bilbo raised both of his arms into the hair out of reflex. It just so happened that the one with his revolver, happened to squeeze the trigger.

Bilbo cursed up a storm. Now he was in a little fog, he was down a ball and his hearing was shot. He looked over to see that his old comrades looked just out of sorts as he. Bilbo wouldn't let this reunion get the best of him. After all, the last time he'd seen any of his Company H they'd tried to kill him. The Private took a step or two away, pulled back the hammer of Sting and stared down the sight. "Mind telling me what you're doing here before I blow your brains out?" I hoped to God he didn't sound as frightened as he felt.

The Durins all held up their hands in surrender. Well, Dwalin had hand up, the other had quickly gone for his sidepiece at Bilbo's threatening words and was now aimed at him. Kili seemed as though he was about to burst into tears, and Bilbo felt a little remorseful. He felt fondly toward his old comrade, the youngest in their company. A smile crept across his lips. In his mind, he recalls Ori countering, _"Youngest by two weeks!"_

Fili, brave soldier, offered peace. "Please, Master Baggins. We've come here as friends--"

Bilbo balked. " _Friends_?" His voice was no longer smooth, it was frantically high-pitched. "Friends do not have each other forcibly removed from under their command and moved to the western front! Friends stand by each other, through hell or high water, and do not watch silent as the grave as their Captain almost murders one of their own!" The veteran took a whole step backward. He couldn't believe it. Friends? They had been friends and comrades-in-arms once, years ago. Perhaps he was overreacting. Perhaps he was a little hysterical. But my God! "Friends would write. Friends would--"

"Mister Baggins! Mister Baggins! _Bilbo_!"

Bilbo blinked rapidly and turned about face, lowering Sting in the process. He was astonished to see Hamfast running out of his wheat field dressed in only his night shirt, his 4-bore rifle above his head. The Scotch stopped a few yards away, adjusting the gigantic gun on his right shoulder. "Come now, what do you have against Mister Baggins?"

"Dwalin," a very low and authoritative voice ordered that sent shivers down Bilbo's spine even after all this time. "Lower your gun. We mean no harm here."

Bilbo turned his head to look over his shoulder. Indeed, Dwalin no longer had his Remington trained on him, but at Hamfast. Slowly, very slowly, Dwalin lowered his weapon and replaced in its holster.

Bilbo nodded at his neighbor to do the same. "It's alright, Hamfast. I know them. They're from the war."

The Scotchman put down his rifle, barrel first on the ground. His face was scrunched up as though he had smelled a pile of dung. "You mean--?"

"Yes," he hushed him quickly.

"Now," Hamfast stated calmly. "I came running over here cause the sound of a gunshot woke me from my sleep--"

Bilbo's eyes widened. "Shit, _Frodo_!"

He took off at a run to his home. He heard Hamfast yell, "That's what I was gettin' at!" and he thought he heard Fili or Kili ask, "Who in the devil is Frodo?" None of that mattered now. God, he had been so selfish, only thinking of himself. He was such a fool. The Englishman flew up the front steps, left the front door wide open, and took the stairs to the next floor two by two until he reached little Frodo's room.

When he opened the door, he was frightened not to visibly see Frodo in the room. Bilbo took a few tentative steps inside, his feet silent on the floorboards. Where could have his nephew gone? To his relief, he heard a meek squeak from under the bed.

Bilbo sighed heavily, placing his revolver on the bedside table. He knelt down on the floor and peered under the bed. There he was, shivering, scared, curled up in a tiny ball. Frodo.

"Come here, lad. Everything is alright."

Frodo managed to climb out and tangled himself in Bilbo's arms. "I thought you were gone," he whispered.

Bilbo ran his fingers through his nephew's dark curls. "Me? No, never."

They stayed like for several minutes. Frodo hiccupping and holding back his sniffles, while Bilbo did his best to soothe the child. He hummed a couple of tunes he'd learned from Bofur, rocked Frodo gently.

"We have some visitors downstairs that will be wanting to stay for a while, I suppose."

Frodo gazed at him with large eyes. "Gandalf?"

Bilbo smiled kindly. "No, fauntling, not Gandalf. But these visitors might make you happy. You've heard quite a bit about them. Why don't we get you back to bed, hm? It's late."

"Not tired," Frodo said flatly.

Bilbo frowned. "No, I suppose you wouldn't be after something like that." At first he struggled to stand with Frodo hanging off his shoulders, but he finally managed. He left Sting on the nightstand, and went downstairs to see who if anyone was there.

Someone had lit most of the lanterns in the front room and the kitchen. Dwalin and Hamfast stood by the front door, as if on guard. Kili and Fili sat at his small dining table, foreheads pressed together in quiet conversation. Thorin was at the fireplace, adding logs, poking at the fire to make sure it didn't die. Everyone's packs were stacked neatly by the door.

It was the first time he had a good look at the men. It appeared that Kili had cried. His eyes were red-rimmed and nose resembled that of a newborn's puppy. He felt even worse about what had transpired. It seemed that six years had treated the brothers well. During the war, they were boys, now they were truly men. Filled out in their shoulders and grew a couple inches. Dwalin had gained a few more tattoos and if it was even possible, more muscular.

And Thorin… well at least from the shoulders down he was the same. Bilbo refused to see that man's face. He knew once he did it'd be all over.

Bilbo cleared his throat to make his presence known. All eyes turned to him. "I expect that you'll be wanting to stay at least the night?" Without giving time for anyone to answer, he continued. "Hamfast, could you occupy Frodo, please? He's wide awake with all the excitement."

It was more difficult than it should have been to hand Frodo over to Gaffer. Apparently, his young ward did not wish to let go. He wailed and protested. Finally his neighbor got a grip on the child after he bribed him a large portion of tablet that his wife was planning on making the following day.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Hamfast murmured. "From what you've told me these _fellows_ aren't people I'd ever lend my worst trowel to!"

Bilbo smiled at the remark and clapped his friend's shoulder. "I'll be fine. I promise. I'm going to play the gracious host for the night, and we'll go from there."

Hamfast uttered something in his native tongue that Bilbo couldn't understand as he faced away from the group. Bilbo stared at his friend's retreating form for longer than necessary. He didn't want to face his old comrades, his past. He simply wasn't ready.

Very reluctantly, Bilbo felt rather sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I suppose you all are rather tired after travelling. I'm afraid I don't have enough beds for all of you." He placed a single digit on his chin as he thought. "One or two of you can take my bed in the master bedroom. It's rather large. I can double-up with Frodo. He's not likely to get much sleep tonight anyway. There's a small bed in the guest room. There's also the sofa. I'm so sorry if one of you has to sleep on the floor, but you could sleep by the fire and I do have a sufficient amount of quilts---"

For the first time in over five years, Bilbo heard Dwalin's low chuckle. "We've all had to sleep in worse conditions than on a floor by a warm fire, lad. I'll rest my head after they have." He gestured to the Durins.

"We'll bunk up together in the guest room," Kili offered. "We're used to sleeping together, aren't we brother?"

Fili rolled his eyes. "Sleep? What sleep did I ever get with you snoring as loud as an iron horse?" The brothers laughed and playfully hit each other.

"Um, does-- does that mean you'll be taking my room?" God, he couldn't meet Thorin's eyes.

"I suppose that it does."

Goddamn Thorin Oakenshield and that voice.

The process of moving everyone about to the appropriate rooms moved rather seamlessly. Dwalin nodded, and grunted in thanks as he received a quilt and camped out one of the sofas in the front room. Kili and Fili appeared rigid, moving toward him slightly only to pull back. They bade him goodnight in their usual manner, perfect unison.

The last was the hardest, of course. Bilbo tried to make it quick as possible. He nervously adjusted and readjusted his pillows and quilt.

"We wake at dawn and breakfast is served afterwards. Please be prompt unless you plan to eat elsewhere. Goodnight, Captain."

He tried to to leave the bedroom, but a hand caught his shirt sleeve.

He didn't dare turn around.

"Bilbo, I--. Why don't you look at me?"

He chewed on his lower lip, debating how to answer the question. "It's too soon, Thorin." He shook off his ex-lover's hand with ease. "Goodnight."

Bilbo wasn't sure, but he heard his old Captain reply, "Goodnight, Master Burglar."

Gaffer went home soon after, with a yawn on his lips promising sweet Frodo with delicious tablet in the coming days.

That night Bilbo hardly got any sleep, unlike his nephew. After Bilbo told him he'd get to hear all about their guests in the morning and get extra rashers of bacon, he shut his eyes and went to dreamland. However, every time Bilbo closed his eyes, all he could see was a certain shade of Durin blue.

Damn Thorin Oakenshield. Goddamn the man.

* * * * *

Bright sunlight filled the room and hurt the Englishman's eyes as he awoke. He gasped and bolted straight up. Why wasn't it after dawn? He had never in all of his life slept in this late. And where was Frodo? Bilbo searched around the room for any place his nephew might have hidden, but no. He wasn't there. Bilbo started to be frightened. He run his fingers through his short curls and tugged hard. God, where had Frodo gone?

As he left his ward's room, Bilbo's nose twitched as he smelled bacon and eggs. He heard laughter, but not a child's laugh, from the first floor.

The previous night flooded back into his mind. Bilbo rushed down the staircase and followed his nose. In his kitchen were Fili and Kili dancing around, cheerfully making breakfast. Fili would toss his brother a few slices of the bacon he'd just sliced and Kili would fry them up in a pan. They bantered and told jokes. Punching each other in the arm in jest. Their coats were slung over one of the chairs at the table, one on each peg. They had rolled up their shirt sleeves to the elbow as they worked giving them a rather casual look. What was most striking was that Fili was not wearing any of his usual braids in his hair or beard. His long blond mane was instead tied up in a bun, but his beard and mustache remained free. Bilbo also caught sight of their two fiddles propped up in a corner.

It was nice to see them happy again.

Kili turned around briefly and did a double take, showing off his bright grin. "Mister B _o_ ggins! You look so pale. Don't worry; we haven't been throwing your plates again!"

"Though we were tempted," Fili added, a rare smile from him peeked through. "Come, sit, sit, sit. We're almost finished and we have much to discuss."

It felt strange being ordered about in his own home, even if the boys were above him in rank. Nevertheless, Bilbo sat at the head of the table, eyeing the pair. "Where's Frodo? Where's everyone else?"

"We decided to let you have a bit of a lie-in after last night," the elder brother explained as he placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Bilbo. "We did give you a bit of a shock. It was rather rude of us to come unannounced."

Bilbo crinkled his brow. None of them called it _rude_ when back when they'd first met all those years ago. 12 Union soldiers stomping through his soddy with his old friend Gandalf (a spy for the army!) in tow. Something had _changed_.

"Well, Frodo decided that you should have a lie-in," his brother corrected. "He woke us before the sun rose and demanded to know who we were! When the rascal discovered that we were _the_ First lieutenants Fili and Kili, why he couldn't contain himself! I'm surprised that it didn't wake you. Thorin and Dwalin burst into our room with Grasper and Orcrist raised, ready to fight when they heard Frodo's scream!"

"Hmm, it was quite a sight you missed, Master Baggins."

Kili began to tick items off on his fingers. "Yes, um, your neighbor came by only an hour ago. He mentioned that someone by the name of Old Took told him that the weather would be changing and that a storm would be hitting soon. He wanted to make sure you'd be alright? Oh, he left with Frodo and Dwalin soon after to get a few things at a flea market. And--"

"Dwalin?" Bilbo's eyebrows rose.

"Yeah, Frodo's taken a bit of a liking to him it seems."

"I think it's his tattoos," Fili mused out loud. "Your boy's probably never seen someone like that out here before."

He certainly had not, Bilbo thought to himself. "He's not my boy. Frodo's my nephew. Sort of. It's complicated."

The pair stared at Bilbo rather seriously. "How complicated?" Fili asked. "He wasn't around last time we were here, unless he was over at your friend's house. But I don't think you are the kind of man who would up and leave his child like that."

"And how's he your nephew? He doesn't sound English," Kili noted.

Bilbo leaned over the table and have the younger brother good whack. "Frodo's English! He's just about as English as you two though. His great-grandparents came from the island. His parents talked like me, your uncle, and I suppose your parents, though I've never met them. We mostly have our _English_ -ness about us but we've managed to slip in a few Americanisms. But your lot seems to have lost the accent almost altogether."

The boys hummed and nodded. "He's right you know?" Fili said. "Mother always wondered how we got our accents."

"So what about his parents? Are they dead? _Ow_!" Kili yelped as his brother punched his arm. "What you are just as curious as I am!"

"Yes, but it's inappropriate!"

Bilbo smiled sadly. "It's alright. He's my cousin Drogo's boy. He and his wife lived in Lawrence," he stopped briefly as Fili and Kili sucked in their breaths in shock. Bilbo nodded solemnly. The whole country knew about Bleeding Kansas and the amount of suffering the town dealt with over the course of the war. "Frodo was still in his mother's womb when I left with you lot. Quite soon after Frodo was born, a group of Confederate guerillas ran through the town, burning down every building and killing most of the men. I was told that one of Quantrill's raiders robbed them of their belongings, shot them, left them for dead and let them drown in a sea of fire."

Everyone at the table was silent for a few moments. Kili and Fili looked extremely melancholy.

"What happened to poor Frodo?" one of them asked. It was spoken so softly that he couldn't tell who had asked.

"The night of the massacre a friend was looking after him to give Drogo and Primula the night off, as it were. And after they died, Frodo was put into an orphanage. Drogo and Prim's parents had perished that night as well and the rest of their relatives were here in the Shire. But they either has no room for a newborn or had no intention in taking him in. So, there Frodo remained.

"I found all this out when I returned from the war. I wasn't speaking to the majority of my relatives at the time, but one of my distant cousins, Pearl, came by and informed me. I rode out to Lawrence as soon as I could, proved who I was and took him home. It's been a hard journey for both of us."

"I'm sorry, Master Baggins," Fili admittedly quietly. "For everything. You have been through too much for one man."

"We mean _everything_ , Mister Baggins," Kili enforced mournfully. "There is no fitting excuse for our behavior at the Lonely Mountain. We were young and naive."

"We thought that uncle was second only to God. When you... after _it_ happened and the heat of the battle was over, it was only then we could clearly see how wrong Thorin had been. We both were wounded you see, at the last battle. It was ghastly. Chaotic. There was so few of us left at that point. I think we were outnumbered by 4 to 1, yet still we won the day. Kili moved from his position at the top of the mountain to give us support. An odd place for a sharpshooter, I know." Fili sighed heavily. His brother wrapped an arm around his shoulder, wiggled him, urging Fili to continue the story. "We were so close to the Rebels-- that we could see the whites of their eyes. I killed at least a dozen with my Bowie knife. It happened defending uncle from direct fire from General Azog's men. Kili took some shrapnel in his shin and became infected. He was laid up in the hospital for quite some time. I got a piece of a Rebel bullet in my cheek." Fili let out a humble laugh. "You probably couldn't tell because of my beard. But if I shaved it off, you'd see the grievous wound."

"You've changed. Both of you," the Englishman complimented. "For the better, I think. It's not just the war. I know how war can change a man. What is the cause?"

Fili and Kili's eyes met and they both blushed. The blond turned about in his chair and received a few items from he and Kili's jackets. He passed two portraits over to Bilbo.

The first he picked up was of a tall and slender woman with long sleek hair rolling down her back posing next fake tree in a photographer's studio. The backdrop showed a rather picturesque day at a pond. The chosen prop for this woman in the photograph was a Whitworth rifle standing up against the tree.

The other photograph was of a younger looking woman, certainly younger than either Durins. She had clear eyes, wavy hair that was tied back with a large bow. She wore a rather plain dress with an apron.

Bilbo looked back at his old comrades. "Your sweethearts?"

Both nodded. Fili pointed with his finger at the photograph of the slender woman. "Kili's Tauriel," he pointed to the other. "And that's my Sigrid."

Kili burst into life, waving his hands about and all smiles. "Tauriel is wonderful, Mister Baggins! She was a nurse at the hospital and was the one that healed me! She's brilliant! She's one of the best nurses that Oin's ever seen! She learned nursing, but she heart lies in shooting. Mister Baggins, Tauriel can shoot a flea off a hound's back from a mile away!"

Fili soured the mood. "She's also General Greenleaf's ward."

Bilbo's eyes popped out of his skull. " _General_? I thought he was a Colonel?"

"Promoted," the brothers droned at the same time. 

"Yes, well, uncle is getting used to the idea. Besides, mother has already blessed the marriage and so has the General. Uncle can't say much about it now can he?"

The elder brother hummed, twisting a single digit through his hair. "No, I guess he can't. Doesn't mean he isn't going to kick up a fuss."

"Who's your young lady, Fili?"

"Do you recall Captain Bowman? He aided us and defeated General Smaug?" he continued once Bilbo nodded. "Well, Sigrid is his eldest daughter. We've been courting since she turned eighteen last May and my brother and Tauriel have been courting since the end of the war."

Kili's eyes met his brother's. "In fact that's why we came here, Mister Baggins. To ask you an important question."

With that, Fili passed Bilbo two envelopes. Both were addressed to him.

_Private Bilbo Baggins  
The Shire, Kansas_

Carefully, he ripped the first envelope open and pulled out what was inside. Bilbo couldn't help but gasp when he read the elegant note.

  
_General Thranduil Greenleaf_  
_requests your presences at the marriage_  
_of his daughter_  
_Tauriel E._  
_and_  
_First lieutenant Kili Durin_  
_on Tuesday, May 2nd, 1871_  
_at 5 o'clock P.M. at Christ Church, Erebor_  


"The other says the much the same," one brother said. "We came asking for your forgiveness, Mister Baggins. But we also wanted to ask you to come to both of our weddings. We can't have it without you."

"We don't deserve it, not after everything that has occurred. But can you find it in your heart to forgive us, Mister B _o_ ggins?"

Bilbo wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. He wasn't sure _when_ it happened, but the pain was lifted from his heart about these two fine men. "Yes, yes, you stupid, boys. I forgive you. And you could have simply _mailed_ them. You didn't have to travel half-way across the country!"

They sat crying and hugging over the stone cold eggs and bacon like little girls. Bilbo heard an occasional quick _chop_ from outside. Perhaps Gaffer was doing some farm work. When they finally got themselves together, Bilbo picked at his cold food while they caught up on the past few years. He told them how he was an author (no, he would not say which novels or give them autographed copies!) and that raising a child was nothing to sneeze at! They had eagerly asked him what battles he'd fought in after Thorin had him transferred, but quickly changed the subject once Bilbo answered with "Too many." He wasn't ready to talk about the war. Not today anyway. Fili and Kili worked in a blacksmith shop with their uncle, and that Fili had been made partner. Kili was in a popular shooting club headed by Captain Bowman. 

They told him what had become of many of that of the Company, whom Fili informed him, all had written him letters and were to be expected to be read and replied to. 

Bofur had been unharmed by the end of the war. The only wound he'd received had been to his dear hat. It had been torn to shreds by volley fire. However, the cheerful Irish Corporal looked upon it as a good luck charm. After all, the hat had saved his life. His brother had received a minor injury to his groin, but nothing serious. It didn't seem to do any effect at all since after the war, he'd gone on to have 3 children to add to his brood of 5. Bifur, their cousin, had not been so lucky. Some shrapnel lodged into his head and no doctor wanted to dislodge for fear that he'd die. Yet the piece of metal stuck in his head caused a blockage in his mind. He could no longer speak English, only Irish Gaelic. He and Bofur owned a toy shop together in the Irish district of Erebor.

Oin had lost all of his hearing in one ear due to standing next to a canon for so long. He'd re-opened his medical practice and Gloin reestablished his bank as well. 

The oddest injury belonged to Dwalin. Some Johnny Reb had bitten off a piece of his ear. Now he worked as bodyguard for hire. Balin, along with Ori's help, opened Erebor's first public library. Dori opened up a saloon and Nori did his typical _Nori_ things.

"I noticed that Dwalin didn't have Keeper with him. Did something happen to it after I left?"

Kili spluttered and Fili smiled knowingly and was the one who was able to answer, "Ori has it. Dwalin uh, lent it to him to protect himself while he was away."

"Really?" Bilbo felt like gossip-y woman with his intrigue. Dwalin and Ori had been one the few of _his kind_ that he knew of besides Thorin. Most relationships among people of his kind did not last long. "My goodness, after all these years? What do their brothers think?"

Fili hooted, "It'd be funny for Nori to mock it since he's a damned thief. And Balin and Dori would be hypocrites…"

Bilbo was taken aback. "No!"

Kili shrugged, "You didn't know?"

"No!"

"I thought," Kili gestured at nothing. "You people knew how to recognize each other at sight or something?"

Again, Bilbo smacked the youngest Durin. Hell, he deserved. "Don't be a ninny! It's not something we go about advertising, is it?"

"How am I supposed to know? How did you and uncle—"

Fili pinched Kili rather hard, whispering harshly, "Goddamnit, Kili."

A tense silence fell over the kitchen once more. Bilbo clutched his fork so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The rhythmic pounding outside did nothing to calm his nerves. 

"It fell apart after you." Kili revealed. "Uncle's madness seemed worse, not better. He was obsessed about winning the war. Nothing could stop him. _Nothing_. Mother got through to him a little bit. She was right furious when she discovered that we wounded under his care," Kili chuckled, remembering something in private. Most of the Company stopped speaking to him, including us. Even Dwalin. In fact, Dwalin didn't speak to Thorin again until very recently."

"What?" Bilbo remarked astonished. "They're best friends!"

Fili shrugged one shoulder. "Not for the past few years. It wasn't only us that cared for you, Mister Baggins, and disliked the way that our uncle treated you."

Bilbo sat in shock. Dwalin? Large, brawny, tattoo-covered Dwalin defended _him_? "Why did they begin to speak again?"

The brothers exchanged glances and Kili responded, "Uncle's madness only stopped when he saw your name in the paper—"

Bilbo's head shot up. "What?"

Fili chewed on his lip as he stared directly into Bilbo's eyes. "We thought you were _dead_. All this time. He _mourned_ you. Thorin didn't live. His body walked but his soul was gone. It left the day he found out you had died. I don't pretend to understand the sexual attraction those like you and uncle have. But, I have come to understand that you love and mourn just as fiercely as any normal man or woman."

"It was a mistake," was all he could say as though it summed it up perfectly and made everything better. "It wasn't me. It was an error on the paper's part."

"We know now," Fili went on. "Gandalf told us about six months ago. We don't blame you at all. Frankly we are all you alive. It's like Jesus Christ has risen from the grave. It's a happy miracle."

Bilbo was about to reply when Frodo burst through the front door, imitating sounds of bumblebees and flapping his arms. Dwalin came through the door behind him, a large basket mounted on each shoulder, brimming over with food. "Lad has a good eye," Dwalin commented. He closed the door with his foot before putting the baskets down on a table. Without any sort of prompting, he began to sort the food and put them away.

The Englishman eyed his former comrade for a moment. "Dwalin, we're good."

The burly man glanced at him over his shoulder, nodded. 

"Is uncle still outside?" Fili called over the noise of Kili chasing young Frodo around the room, the two giggling incessantly. 

"That he is," Dwalin replied.

Bilbo almost choked on his piece of bacon. "Where's Thorin?"

Fili eyed him quizzically. "He's outside chopping firewood. He thought you need more. You've heard the chopping, haven't you?"

He had indeed. Bilbo had mistaken it for Gaffer doing work. The Englishman wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood from the table. "Excuse me if you will, gentlemen."

"Where are you going?"

Bilbo straightened his vest and lifted his chin. "I suppose I'm going to speak to Captain Durin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnd I end you with THAT.  
> I FUCKING KNOW.  
> WTF.  
> Boys wanna be boys and muse wanna be muse.  
> More is coming at some point in the near future.
> 
> Read, leave kudos and comments. Keep my muse going in the meantime. <3 you all. Especially hiddencait.


	3. Interlude #1: Christmas Eve 1865

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has been back at Bag-End for a few months. In that time he has discovered that everyone thought he was dead, that he had a neighbor who was fiercely loyal, and that his cousins were actually the ones dead, which left him to be the only one to care for their boy. Bilbo was not in any mood to celebrate Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set prior to the events of Compass. Thought everyone deserved a little something since chapter 3 isn't up yet. Sorry that it's short.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh! I realized that I made a historical timeline oops. I realized while writing this, that in chapter 2, Bilbo mentioned that Frodo was a newborn during the Lawrence Massacre. Well, I figured that Bilbo would have left to join the war in April (1863) like when he joins the company in the books. So it was fine that Bilbo's cousin was pregnant at the time he left. But… Frodo was born in September of '63. And the massacre that killed Frodo's parents happened in August '63. Yeah big oops. Not sure how to fix that. If anyone has suggestions let me know. Other than that imagine the raids happened later in the year.

_Christmas Eve 1865_

 

The sod house was lit by a lone candle sitting in the middle of a small table. Its tiny light flickered, barely showing the outlines of the two men who were sitting there, drinking tea.

 

Bilbo sighed before he spoke, "Gaffer, we _can't_. I wouldn't want to impose."

 

"Nonsense, Mr. Baggins!" Hamfast's voice may have been louder than he had intended. The Scotchman lowered his tone as he continued, "We want you to have Christmas with us. It's all about giving, and good cheer, and Saint Nicholas! It'd be good for you and the lad to get out of here. You wouldn't even let us see you on your birthdays."

 

Bilbo knew that it still annoyed Bell and Gaffer that he refused to open the door when they had arrived to celebrate a many happy returns. Admittedly, Bilbo had been very rude and improper. The Englishman could scarcely believe that he'd done it himself. He justified it though, as best as he could manage, that this was not a joyous birthday for him or Frodo. They were still getting accustomed to each other. Both of their lives had been turned upside down in the last few months. Frodo had been taken away from the orphanage he'd been raised at by a relative he had never heard of. Now Bilbo had a child to raise. A child. He never thought he'd look after a little one as his own. It was something he had come to come to terms with long ago when he accepted that he was not attracted to women like a normal man.

 

"If I recall correctly you wasted a perfectly good postage stamp to send our presents through the postal service just to get back at me."

 

Hamfast looked like he was about to burst into laughter, but quickly schooled it back. "Well I didn't know if I was still welcome, did I?'

 

Bilbo hid his smile by lifting his cup and taking a sip. "I didn't ask for any gifts."

 

"Aye, but you got them anyway. If you are about to tell me that you don't think you need any gifts for Christmas, then I'll put my foot down. Out of all the people on God's earth, you deserve to have a happy Christmas most of all!"

 

"Oh? I'm up to quite some stiff competition if I am against the whole world."

 

"Mr. Baggins," Gaffer sounded so sad as be pleaded. "Come to Christmas. If not for yourself, think of your nephew. My Samwise is so fond of him. And if you say no after that, then I'd have to say that you have a cold heart indeed! I know that's not true. I don't know what happened to you out there, Mr. Baggins, and you have every right to not say a peep until the day you die." He gripped Bilbo's hand and squeezed. "I can't bare the thought of you two being alone in this soddy."

 

Bilbo was very glad that the light was nearly gone from the candle. His face was unreadable, but his thoughts were running round and round in circles. He concluded three things.

 

1\. It would be rude to turn down the invitation, especially since the Gamgees were not blood related, and doing this out if the kindness of their hearts.

2\. It would be good for Frodo to get out of the soddy on a holiday. His nephew really did get along well with Gaffer's youngest son.

3\. That he didn't want to be alone.

 

"They left me."

 

"Mr. Baggins?"

 

Bilbo avoided Hamfast's gaze. He wasn't sure as to why he was letting any of this tumble out at all. It was giving a bit if himself away for Hamfast to hold. At the same time, the words were nice to finally share with someone else. As Bilbo spoke, he felt as though his voice sounded was rather drab. "They abandoned me and left me to _die_."

 

It seemed to click to Hamfast of what Bilbo was talking about. "Oh, Mr. Baggins."

 

"I suppose we will go to Christmas," Bilbo said to lighten things up. "You're right, it would be good for both of us." He spared a glance to the sleeping child in his bed.."I wouldn't like to anger your Bell if I decline."

 

Gaffer let go of his friend's hand and laughed. "Aye, you're right there." He stood, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair and slipping it on. "I'll be by after breakfast to take you over. I suspect Frodo is going to be surprised about this in the morning. I'll be off. Ta!"

 

With that, Bilbo's neighbor went out the door into the night with only a small lantern that he'd left by the door to light the way. After Bilbo could no longer see the fire from the lamp, he got ready for bed. 

 

He couldn't help but to think, that last Christmas he was sure he was going to perish. Tomorrow on Christmas day, he was going to be with his young ward at their neighbors. Quite a difference.

 

In the back of his mind, Bilbo wished… Well, wishing got no one anywhere. 

 

He slipped under the covers, holding Frodo to his chest. He hadn't had a Christmas in Kansas for two years. Hopefully, this Christmas could be a sign for better things to come.

 

Bilbo's eyes shot open, looking into the dark. By God, he didn't have any presents for the Gamgees!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are amazing and I will never stop asking for them, but getting comments, actual feedback from readers means so much. Taking five seconds out of your time can really make my day.


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